


the need for touch

by Sohvana



Series: broken into better shape [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Background Relationships, Companion Piece, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Lack of Communication, M/M, Memories, Minor Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, cast some light 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohvana/pseuds/Sohvana
Summary: Last night wasn’t what the gossip might say, and it was a one time thing, anyway. It won’t happen again.Bodhi wasn't expecting to end up in Luke's bed the night before. Now he's taken by surprise in all new ways.





	the need for touch

Bodhi sleeps soundly but wakes early, the usual effect of alcohol on his system. He lays quietly in bed for a while, watching Luke sleep. The flush in his cheeks from drinks the night before is mostly gone now. The slow sounds of his breathing are soothing, until Bodhi realizes how long he’s been staring. A knot made of mingled longing and embarrassment gathers somewhere in his gut. He should go.

In any case, there are still a few hours before breakfast, and he wants a shower, fresh clothes, and some privacy with his thoughts before the day’s work begins. If he goes back now, maybe Seda won’t notice him creeping back into their room.

He doesn’t want to wake Luke, but when he eases his legs over the edge of the bed, he stirs, yawns, and stretches.

“Good morning,” says Luke, despite nuzzling back down against the pillow.

“Good morning.” Somehow the phrase is a bit less strained than usual, maybe even true. The feeling is startling, unfamiliar, and he’s not sure whether it’s welcome. He finds his boots where they tumbled off his feet in the wee hours, steps into them without bothering with the laces.

“You weren’t gonna leave without saying goodbye, were you?” Luke’s eyes are wide open now, watching him closely.  

“I…” he pauses, caught, tries again. “It’s early. I wanted to let you sleep.”

Luke looks down and away, traces his fingers over the edges of the covers they never even pulled back. His face is unreadable.

Bodhi doesn’t know what else to say. Making eye contact again is more than he can manage. At the door he pauses to call over his shoulder, “I’ll see you later.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bodhi follows the day’s routine on base, not quite able to focus on any task in front of him. He doesn’t know what to make of the previous night. And while Seda didn’t say anything, Bodhi’s pretty sure his absence was noticed.

Not that it matters. Not that he has anything to answer for or be ashamed of.

All the same, he knows how pilots talk, how they brag about their own exploits, tease and speculate about everyone else’s. He sees how the members of Rogue One raise their brows or nudge each other whenever Jyn and Cassian hover just a bit too near. He’s not sure he’s ready to weather that sort of thing again.

Besides, nothing really happened. Luke’s just a friend. They’d been drunk, they’d kept on talking, laughing, and swapping stories, until finally it was too late to worry about who slept where. It wasn’t what the gossip might say, and it was a one time thing, anyway. It won’t happen again.

By the time he arrives in the mess for dinner, he’s managed to settle this in his mind. He shares a table with Baze and Chirrut, downs his rations as if they aren’t bland. 

Luke catches up on his way out, falls into step beside him. “There you are.”

“You were looking for me?” Bodhi says, startled into being direct.

“More or less,” Luke admits, shrugging, a laugh hardly hiding in his eyes.

They walk in silence a few moments, the buzzing of the mess crowd fading behind them.

“Well, here I am…?” Bodhi says finally, the statement trailing into a question.

Luke doesn’t exactly answer. “What are you up to tonight?”

“I was going to look for Cassian, see what he’s tinkering with. When he misses a meal, you know it’s something interesting.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the three of them trail back toward their quarters, it’s growing late. Cassian peels off where the passage splits, mumbling something about an early briefing.

Luke and Bodhi continue on together. When they reach Luke’s room, he walks directly inside, throwing another joke over his shoulder.

Bodhi follows just far enough to catch the punchline, hovers grinning in the doorway. He’s tired, bone deep, and his bed is waiting, but there’s no harm in enjoying the company a little longer.

Luke keeps chatting as he pulls his arms out of his jacket, steps out of his boots. Standing there in his stocking feet, he coughs, looks at Bodhi, then down and away again, so quick he almost seems shy. “Mind closing the door behind you? All the heat’s seeping out.”

Bodhi hesitates, desperate to keep his mind’s tumult from showing. “Sure,” he says, stepping inside and reaching out to palm the pad. The slow, deliberate movement helps.

When he turns back, Luke is standing in front of the little sink in the corner, a towel tossed over his shoulder.

“I’ll be just a sec,” he calls over.

Bodhi sits down at the foot of the bed, not sure where to look. It doesn’t seem right to watch while Luke splashes water over his face and brushes his teeth, but the room is small enough there’s hardly a way to avoid it.

“There,” Luke says, walking back over and tossing his towel over a hook. “Where were we?”

Bodhi has no idea how to answer this question.

“I don’t have my lager layers tonight,” Luke says, practically. “We’ll probably need these.”

When he realizes Luke’s reaching to turn down the covers, Bodhi jumps up to get out of the way. His mind is whirling, tumbling around how Luke keeps saying “we”. He glances at the closed door, then at Luke’s back. He tries to measure his breathing, watches while Luke climbs into bed.

He’s still standing there stock still when Luke asks, “Aren’t you cold?”

The tiny hairs along the back of Bodhi’s neck and down his arms are standing up, though he couldn’t really say if the cause were cold or something else. It’s easier to just nod in reply.

“Come on then,” says Luke, scooting against the wall to leave him plenty of room.

Bodhi kicks off his boots, lines them up with the pair already by the wall. He hangs his jacket over Luke’s on the peg, his fingers lingering there for a moment, pressing into the fabric. He hadn’t paused to think, hadn’t wondered where his things should belong. They felt as if they already had places in this room and were drawn to them by gravity, so all he’d had to do was let them continue their orbits home.

_Home_ _._ Bodhi closes his eyes against that word, against his memories of Jedha, the most recent one the worst of all. That’s not where his mind should go tonight. Luckily, the two paces to the bed aren’t long enough for him to lose his nerve. He gets in and the sheets are still chilly, setting him shivering.

Luke opens one eye, then two, regarding him critically.

“I didn’t realize I was this cold,” he admits.

Luke doesn’t answer with words. He lifts his arm, a silent invitation.

Bodhi stares, first at the arm, then at Luke’s face.

Mercifully, his eyes are already closed again.

He rolls onto his side, drawing close enough for Luke to drape the arm around his shoulder. Warmth is already seeping toward him, but he doesn’t dare nestle any nearer.

He doesn’t have to.

Luke draws a deep breath in, then lets it out as he shifts higher in the bed and hauls him against his chest.

The fingertips clutching around Bodhi’s shoulder blade slowly release. He curls his arms in close between their two bodies, bows the crown of his head to fit beneath Luke’s chin. He has to remind his muscles to relax.

“Better?”

He really is warmer already, and Luke is right here. Hadn’t he wished for this the night before, in a secret corner of his heart he hardly dares admit exists? He’s not sure what they’re doing yet, or what any of it means, but for now he doesn’t need to know. He nods gently, trusting Luke to sense the motion.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from "The Colder Months", by Liza Anne.


End file.
